


You Okay?

by smutduck (sharkduck)



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Explicit sex but Sidesteps genitals aren't mentioned like at all, Fallen Hero spoilers, Minor Mind-Control, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rebirth Spoilers, imagine what u want, no beta readers we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-06 17:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17349323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkduck/pseuds/smutduck
Summary: Sidestep and Steel's first time. What's build-up? I don't know her.





	You Okay?

Steel traces a finger along the textured skin of your barcode, causing your breath to catch in your throat – you swallow, shivering. You can feel his apprehension as he purses his lips, face hard, but his anxiety is swelling.

“You okay?” He murmurs, wanting to withdraw. You keep him firmly in place with your hands, fingers wrapped around the thick muscle of his biceps, feeling flesh and metal meld together under your fingertips, grounding you to the present.

“Yeah,” you say, sucking in a breath through your nose; you sound surer of yourself the second time. “Yeah. Yes.” Steel grunts, dipping his head to rest his forehead against your collarbone, his hair tickling your skin. Everything is sensitive. Everything is acute. You squash your innate and primal need to run under heel. He presses a kiss to your chest, over a scar from –

Where is that one from again? It’s hard to recall now. You have so very many, and Steel is warm over top of you, bearing down in a way that tries his best not to be suffocating. Every sharply honed instinct of yours has kicked your consciousness into overdrive and forced you to focus almost entirely on the present – much like a fight. _Exactly_ like a fight. You don’t have time to reminisce when you’re anticipating Steel’s every move.

It’s a welcome distraction from the usual background radiation of thoughts and sensations that permeates your waking life.

Steel shifts again, sitting up so he can gently sling your legs over his thighs – always gentle, he thinks you’re porcelain and easily breakable; you suppose that’s not entirely inaccurate, but you wish he’d give you some credit considering how many times you’ve defenestrated yourself and lived. He smooths the pads of his thumbs over your hips, keeping you steady.

Suddenly you’re glad you have underwear on. Not that it does much good – you’re exposed except for a pair of well-fitting cotton trunks.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“ _Chen._ ” You smile – it’s not a natural expression for you, but it feels genuine. At least on your face – you catch a brief glimpse of what you look like through Steel’s eyes, and it looks awkward to him. _Adorable._

You feel heat settle into your cheeks. Well then.

“I’m okay,” you say, needing to distract yourself from the thought that he finds you cute, “just – get these off?” His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, and pulls them down your thighs and off – finally.

It feels slightly anticlimactic, being naked after – to be quite honest with yourself – outright fantasizing about this exact moment for a while.

Steel doesn’t seem to think so. The flush on his cheeks deepens, and he runs his hands down the inside of your thighs as if marveling at your textured and scarred skin, carefully avoiding your most sensitive areas.

“You’re –” He clears his throat. “Really… Yeah.”

You snort, even though you try not to, and shake your head.

“Nerd.”

“Jerk.” He leans forward and kisses you, and you only tense for the briefest second before you melt into his mouth, brushing your thumb against one of the scars on his cheekbone. His hand slips between the two of you, then between your thighs, against the evidence of your arousal – you shiver, catching your lower lip between your teeth and watching with lidded eyes and morbid curiosity as he plucks up the bottle of lube from where it lay beside the two of you, coating his fingers liberally before slipping in a finger.

It hurts, just a bit, because you’re tense; a burning, stretching pain, like overextending a muscle. You grit your teeth, trying to relax – which you’re sure you haven’t done since they pulled you out of whatever awful tube you’d been developed in. That being said, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you believed it would. Which is good, because you get the distinct impression that Steel is not a small man.

Steel is fidgety – nervous. Doting.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can stop.”

“I’m _fine_ , Chen. Just – let me relax.”

“Right. Yeah –” He wets his lips, swallowing again. “Right. Relax.” It’s more to himself than to you. You take a few, calming breaths, forcing your muscles to unlock one by one. It gets easier and easier, until the pain subsides completely – and it actually feels quite nice.

“Do you think you’re ready for another finger?” You feel heat settle into your cheeks when you nod, and you shiver when a second digit slips in, stretching you. Making sure you’re comfortable. You don’t realize you let out a sound until Chen groans and plants another kiss on your chest – you sift through his thoughts out of muscle memory, wondering what garnered such a reaction, gently running mental fingers through his mind and replaying the moment in your own head. A noise like a reedy, mewling keen. Your own face flushed, eyes hazy and unfocused.

He thinks you’re beautiful.

That’s even more disturbing than the fact that he finds you awkwardly endearing, and endearingly awkward. You pull out of that thought fast enough that it snaps you back to reality like a rubber band. You don’t think Steel noticed, thankfully, too busy sucking a hickey into the side of your neck and – _god_ there’s another finger.

Is he that big, or does he simply want you well prepared?

It does sting a bit – but Steel’s mouth on your collarbone and his teeth on your throat distract you enough that the pain barely registers; filed away to the back of your brain and promptly forgotten about in favor of more pleasurable things. Thankfully it stops at three – you don’t think you can handle any more than that. And you’re starting to get impatient.

Chen pulls his fingers out of you to apply more lube, finally ( _finally_ ) sliding his boxers off his legs and – oh.

You’re not sure if he’s big, or if you’re just easily impressed and inexperienced.

You swallow the thickness in your throat as you watch him give his prick a few preliminary strokes, slick and swollen, your mouth suddenly dry. You think you might have absentmindedly spread your legs a little, an aching sort of want settling in your groin. It’s enough to embarrass you into glancing away, just for a second, face hot.

“You ready?” Chen plants his hands on your inner thighs, cool fingers tracing a few particular scars. You nod.

“And you’re sure you don’t want a condom?” You nod again. “Because I can put one on—”

“ _Wei Chen,_ ” your voice has a hardness to it that surprises even yourself, “do not mother me when you’re about to raw me in my apartment.” That’s suitably crass enough to leave him speechless and flushing, clearing his throat as he holds himself at the base and slowly – agonizingly slowly – pushes in.

There isn’t any pain, not like in fanfiction and smutty romance novels; you’ve been stretched more than enough, thankfully, and there’s also more lube than you probably need. In fact, it feels rather nice.

Pleasurable, even.

You let yourself shiver and bite your lip, watching Steel bury himself to the hilt and let out a slow exhale. Everything is searing hot; you’re right back to your nerve endings catching fire and instinct keeping you on your toes as he gives a slow rock of his hips.

_Oh._

Electricity shoots up your spine from your groin, settling into heat in your stomach, and you allow yourself to let out a reedy moan. It feels so different from being in a puppet, somehow – every action and reaction comes from a live wire, sparking, stripped of insulation and unmuted. More real. Especially with Steel’s thoughts lapping against yours like waves. Not crashing – brushing against your consciousness, the tide against your skin. Sensations, just barely coherent.

You’re pleased to find him enjoying himself – although “pleased” and “enjoying” may both be too shallow a description.

His pace is steady, slow, searching. Trying to find what you like, and what you don’t.

As much as you enjoy it – and it might be your particular habit of engaging in unique brands of self-harm talking – you need more. Just a bit. Enough to leave you aching in the morning.

Maybe it’s not so much a need to hurt as it is a need to remember that this was real.

Perhaps it’s manipulative, but you nudge him psychically towards going a little faster, a little harder. The bed creaks its protest under his weight, his face flushed, sweat beading on his forehead, and it’s still not enough. You moan, fingers tangled in sheets.

“Steel,” you sound needy, but you’re so far past the point of caring that it’s borderline comical – maybe you should play that up a little, judging from the glint he gets in his eyes at your tone, “ _harder._ ”

He lets out a feral growl and flips you onto your stomach, lifting your hips off the mattress, a new angle, a new way to make you gasp and moan. You bury your face into the bed, cling to the blankets and whine, skin hitting skin and sending sparks up your spine.

Getting fucked raw like this is – an _experience._ Particularly by Chen. Especially since, for all intents and purposes, this body hasn’t ever don’t this before.

Not that you consider yourself a virgin – that’s an outdated concept, and one that doesn’t have any meaning for a telepath that hops bodies like a free runner hops fences. You’ve experienced a lot of things through puppets.

This is new, though. New and deliriously overwhelming, but you’re pretty sure you like it.

Steel tries so hard not to squeeze your sides – not to leave bruises. His mods make it difficult, but he has nothing if not an obscene amount of self-control. He lifts your hips even higher, adjusting, slamming into you hard enough the bed rattles against the wall.

Oh _fuck._

That was an experimental thrust – he won’t do that again until you ask him to. You can feel it in his thoughts. Damn it.

“ _Christ,_ ” your voice cracks, “Chen _please_ —” You’re not sure how to go about asking for this, and Steel’s brain, much like always, immediately assumes the worst – that he’s hurt you somehow. He stops, which makes you want to tear your hair out. You make a serious, if failed, attempt to rock your hips against his, fumbling for words.

“Don’t stop – god, fuck, please don’t stop.” That gets to him.

He lets out another growl and thrusts into you with force again. You feel your eyes roll and you screw them shut, back arching as he all but pounds you into the mattress, slow and hard and earth-shattering. He’s close and you’re _close,_ and you’d reach around to touch yourself if you weren’t too busy clutching the sheets until your knuckles are white.

Your thoughts are spilling out of you, a cup overflowing, and you can feel that he can feel what you need – you try to rein yourself in before you do something you’ll both regret, but he wraps a burly arm around your waist, fingers engineered to feel like flesh against the heat between your legs, and it isn’t long before your vision explodes with stars and pinpricks of hot white light. The sound that comes out of you is choked and somewhere in between a howl and a moan, smothered by your face pressed into the pillow.

It takes you awhile to come down from your high, and when you do Steel is there, peppering kisses over the back of your neck and shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into your hips. He’s still – _inside_ you, and still hard; he hasn’t come yet. Wanting to make sure you’re okay, most likely.

Strange. Your head is blissfully, numbly empty. Like being in a puppet, but warmer. There are tingles over your skin, more skittering down your spine every time Steel shifts even minutely.

“You okay?” He murmurs against your skin, and you groan and nod, voice hoarse.

“Never better,” you say. “Do you want to…?” He grunts in response.

“Are you alright with that?”

“I think I’m alright with just about anything right now.” He snorts, shakes his head, and then begins to slowly, gently rock his hips. Every movement sends white hot electricity up your spine, but your sex is pretty much numb to arousal at this point.

Steel presses his forehead into your shoulder as he pulls out and strokes himself, coming with a throaty groan onto your blanket.

It needed washed anyways. It’s fine.

He spends a bit of time like that, breathing heavily through his nose, eyes closed, forehead pressed against your skin. You’re just beginning to wonder if he’s okay before he rolls off you onto his back and pulls you on top of him, smooth, cool palm running over your spine as he grounds himself in the moment.

“That was,” you’re breathless, still trying to blink stars from your eyes. It’s all you can say. He grunts in response.

“You need anything?”

“Sleep.” That earns you a chuckle, and he kisses your forehead.

“Alright, slick.”

You don’t even mind the nickname. You’re too busy closing your eyes and falling head first into the first restful sleep you’ve had in years, lulled by Steel’s steady heartbeat.


End file.
